The Ice Within
by Sakimaru
Summary: There's more to Prince Hans than meets the eye. Elsa has been having a recurring nightmare of Hans, sparking her curiosity of the enigmatic Prince of the Southern Isles. When Arendelle's neighbor declares war, Hans, an admiral of the navy, is sent over as a peace offering to guide the kingdom through, leading him and Elsa to find out they're more similar than they ever thought.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

Elsa was not the type of girl to have nightmares. Her dreams were normal, peaceful, what you would expect anyone to have, if she had any at all. Like most people, she didn't remember half of them, and she refused to believe they meant anything.

So it was unsettling, to say the least, when there was one dream in particular that kept coming back to her, night after night. At first, it showed up sporadically, every few days with long gaps in between for her to forget. She didn't think anything of it, until she had it consistently for a week, every time she drifted off to sleep.

 _Prince Hans. The winter. His sword, lunging toward her—_

And then she would wake up, the dream ending abruptly with her slumber. Always right before the sword was about to strike her.

But it wasn't fear she felt every time she saw the fallen prince about to kill her. She only wished it were that simple.

At first, her heart would seize in terror every time she saw that blur of metal coming after her. After she had the dream a couple times, though, the fear eventually gave way, and she could explore more thoroughly. She learned to look past the weapon and onto other things...like the prince's face.

Normally it was a handsome face, she hated to admit, and if they had met under different circumstances, she certainly would have given him more than a once-over. He had combed red hair that leaned toward a deep auburn, a strange color she had never seen before. His nose was long, his cheekbones high, and the lashes that covered his azure green eyes were too long and thick to be fair.

At first, she thought that his face was contorted in a sick sort of glee, grinning in madness as he was so sure that _this_ was his moment of triumph. At first, she felt nothing but contempt for him.

But the dream kept coming back to her. And she wasn't sure if it had changed, or maybe just her perception of it had, but she no longer saw malice in his expression. Instead, what she found surprised her.

He looked, to her...fearful. Desperate. There was something more in his expression, something meaningful that she couldn't place a finger on. And even stranger still, she felt almost a solace in it, this strange, unexplainable feeling that she felt she shared with him.

It was so irrational as to be laughable.

Prince Hans, of the Southern Isles—manipulative, charismatic, charming, and an amazingly good deceiver—looking so vulnerable? She didn't think such a thing possible. He was a lot of things, but havnig such human weaknesses didn't seem possible for him.

Besides that, it was inconceivable that they shared anything between them. She was nothing like him. They were nothing alike.

She found herself thinking about him, though.

All this because of a dream. She couldn't believe it.

 _What could this all possibly mean?_

"Your majesty, there is a letter for you, from the neighboring kingdom," said her mail courier, bowing as he held out a heavy parchment envelope for her.

Elsa was busy filling out paperwork and didn't even bother glancing at the royal wax seal.

"Which neighboring kingdom?" she asked, trying to keep her patience under control. It was hard not to snap under all the stress she had gone through recently in trying to rebuild the kingdom. Even with summer and winter back in their place, the sudden freeze had killed almost all of the summer crops, crippling the agriculture and therefore the economy. Many had fallen sick and were unable to work. There was still damage from snow and ice.

She felt so frustrated. Angry, even. At her parents, who spent more time telling her to conceal her powers than actually preparing her for the throne. Who knew all the responsibilities and skills that it took to rule? All the numbers, decisions, political nuances that seemed minute but handled wrongly could cause the kingdom's demise. Everything from peace agreements to party invitations was political. She tried her best, yet felt her best wasn't good enough. She had learned just enough to scrape by, but with the recent hardships, she knew it wasn't long before she would snap.

More than the building pile of stress, though, was the guilt from the fact that _she_ had caused all of this to happen. There was no one to blame but herself.

"The Southern Isles, Your Majesty."

She stiffened. The Southern Isles, where Prince Hans was from—had they sent a letter of apology? Were they updating her to Prince Hans' status? She hated how curious she was, how ravaging her need for information on him was.

"I'll read it now, thank you," she said, holding out her hand for the envelope.

The Southern Isles' thick, glossy emblem was stamped in the image of a swan, along with the initials SI. She ripped the envelope open, trying not to appear too eager as she slipped the parchment out and unfolded it to read:

To Queen Elsa of Arendelle:

It is with our deepest regret that we apologize for the grave infraction committed by the youngest prince of the Southern Isles, Hans. The Southern Isles values Arendelle highly as a valuable and most loyal ally; to have any strain to jeopardize this relationship is unthinkable.

We cannot apologize enough for the grave injustice that was almost committed one week from the writing of this letter. We can, however, insure that justice will be served and this crime will be put right. He is currently being held in prison until he is able to serve out the rest of his sentence.

Please rest assured that this in no way reflects the feelings of the kingdom of the Southern Isles and that the actions of Prince Hans were renegade and unknown to us. We will be sure to punish him promptly and without mercy, with your very dear life in mind.

Regards,

Queen Isla of the Southern Isles, esq.

At first she thought it was strange that a letter could sound so devoid of emotion, especially when concerning a son, but she quickly dismissed it. It was, after all, royal correspondence, where emotion was almost frowned upon.

"Well," she said stiffly, "Prince Hans is taken care of and properly punished. I suppose that's suitable."

"Punished? I'm sorry if it's none of my business—"

"I don't like him," she said flatly, almost to convince herself more strongly of it. "And I don't see why I should."

"Well, Your Majesty, it's just that since Hans _did_ save your life..."

" _What?_ " She looked up at him, her eyes wide, indignant. "What—" she spluttered. "What are you talking about?"

For the past two weeks as she'd started her duties as queen again, she'd tried not to get overly upset. Even though she had learned the secret to controlling her powers, the theory was easier than the practice.

Her people still feared her, a little. She could see it even now as she strolled through the gardens, how they shied away from her, eyeing her warily like she might lash out again. It disheartened her, but could she blame them, with all that had happened? She was the runaway, vagabond queen that had abandoned them and dumped her responsibilities onto her less qualified sister, still naive to the world. And she'd left them in the hands of Prince Hans of the Southern Isles. The thought made her fists clench and—

"Erm, Your Majesty," said her courier, panicked.

"Hm?" She snapped out of it and looked down at her fists, which had been resting on the table. Ice crystals had started growing out from her bare hands—symbolically she refused to wear gloves anymore—and half of the desk's surface had frozen.

"For the love of..." She sighed and scrambled to pick the papers off. "I'm sorry. What were you saying? About Hans?"

Just his name brought up...strange feelings.

"That he saved your life. Queen Elsa." He nodded at her respectfully.

"I recall no such thing," she said curtly. "And how would you know?"

She hadn't meant to be rude, but it came out sounding like she was a petulant child.

"Excuse me," she sighed, rubbing her temple as she watched the ice thaw into a familiar, unwelcome puddle on her place mat. "I didn't mean to snap. It's just been a long day." And, she realized, he wouldn't have known that Prince Hans had almost killed her. Right now she must have sounded like a moody brat.

He nodded respectfully again. "When you, well, the incident a few weeks ago. When Captain Westergard—er, Prince Hans, asked for volunteers to come look for you and Princess Anna, I was one of them. Two of the volunteers were the Duke of Weselton's men. While we, well, Prince Hans fought your ice monster, they ran off to attack you."

Elsa nodded, trying not to make a face. Recalling that moment...it was not one of her strong points.

"He noticed while the rest of us were, um, occupied. He defeated the ice monster by himself and went after you, Your Majesty. While one of the mercenaries was about to shoot, he managed to disrupt his aim and point the crossbow away from you, which, unfortunately, caused the arrow to hit the chandelier instead. You passed out and Captain Hans carried you on his horse while he walked you to Arendelle."

 _And why did no one else offer to carry me on their horse instead?_ she thought, but dismissed it. She didn't want to know if he'd offered or if everyone else was too fearful to.

Elsa sat back in the chair. "So you're telling me that Prince Hans saved my life." She rubbed her temple again; she was getting a headache trying to wrap her mind around it. The last thing she wanted was to feel grateful to Hans, like she owed him something.

"Yes, Queen Elsa."

She pressed her lips together. She remembered waking up in the dungeon, but had never questioned how she'd gotten there. She also remembered the blanket that she had been covered in, the small act of kindness that had comforted her and made her hope maybe they _didn't_ think she was such a monster after all. Had Hans given her that, too?

She longed to ask, but...

"That will be all. Thank you." She nodded at him in dismissal and he bowed deeply before leaving.

Elsa had a lot on her mind. None of it, however, had to do with the kingdom, and all of it had to do with the wannabe king.

She, admittedly, hadn't had much interaction with Prince Hans, but from what she could glimpse from her brief encounters with him, he was charming, polite, and poised.

When Anna introduced him to her, she couldn't lie: he was attractive, possibly the most handsome man she'd seen, and he seemed like the mirror image of Anna personality-wise. But that didn't mean that they would make a good married couple.

Their next encounter was when he had found her in her ice palace and snapped her out of killing two men.

 _Don't be the monster they fear you are_.

She clenched her eyes shut as she walked down the halls of the castle, her hand trailing along the wall. Who was he to keep her morals in check?

But ironic as it was, he _had_ the better morals in that situation. His words still struck true to her to this day. If he hadn't been there, there was no doubt in her mind that those two men would have been dead, by her hand. How could she live with herself if that happened?

And going by the people of Arendelle, he wasn't exactly a tyrant, either. The only people who knew of his betrayal were a select few who had been there and were sworn to secrecy, including her sister, Kristoff, and a few diplomats. Everyone else in Arendelle had no idea what fate was bestowed upon the prince; they assumed he had returned to his home in the Southern Isles.

That didn't stop them from asking after him casually.

"Queen Elsa, how is Prince Hans faring?"

"Your Majesty, have you heard from Prince Hans?"

"Will the prince from the southern isles come and visit us again?"

She hated to admit it, but he would be a good and able leader, and her people adored him. And why wouldn't they? He had single-handedly run the entire kingdom while she was gone. He had helped them survive the winter that _she_ had caused, the winter that could have killed the entire population because _no one_ was prepared for it in the middle of the summer. More death on her hands that he had prevented; indirectly or directly, it didn't matter, because she had run away from her responsibilities, and he'd had to step up in her place.

What was more, he had shown them kindness when she had been nothing but a distant figure head to them, an apparition because she never appeared outside of the castle. She didn't know if it was an act. Her people certainly didn't think so. But they also didn't know he was a brilliant actor.

As for those who did know, most weren't pleased with him. Anna didn't speak of him much, but she did seem content with Prince Hans' outcome; he was out of her hair, she had punched him, and he was being punished by his own twelve older brothers. What more could she ask for? Elsa suspected there might have been some underlying issues left with her, but she didn't let it show.

Kristoff, of course, was pissed, for lack of a better word. If he'd had his way, Prince Hans would be beaten within an inch of his life. He _had_ tried to kill Elsa, after all, and hurt Anna by misusing her trust, but he'd seemed to move on since Anna had.

Which left Elsa. What did _she_ think of him? She couldn't even answer that herself. She probably should have been angry at him, since he had used Anna. But she hadn't been there for the majority of her and Hans' relationship; like a distant relative's death, it didn't seem real to her. Anna certainly wasn't bitter over it. And again, she had always thought the whole thing was just a silly infatuation from the beginning.

He had also tried to kill her, but he hadn't succeeded. _That_ didn't seem real, either. Elsa, whose biggest resentment in life was having powers that she didn't know how to control for twenty-one years, couldn't find herself to gripe over it.

There had been no real damage done, and if Anna hadn't seen him and run over as he swung that sword, Elsa still could have gotten away and run off again, never to see her sister.

And in a strange, strange way, it could be said she even owed him. If he and Anna hadn't upset her with their marriage proposal, the rest of the coronation party would have gone off smoothly, she and Anna would become recluses living in the castle again. She would still be distant from her sister. She would never know the love and liberation she had now.

He was the starting point of it all.

Who was he? What parts of him were a lie, and what weren't? What were his motivations for what he did?

Prince Hans was an enigma to her. And it didn't help that he was also apparent in her dreams.

She'd found herself in the old waiting room without realizing, staring up at the portrait of her father holding up his scepter and the royal incense pot. His expression was almost unreadable to her: was she scared? Anxious? Dreading running a whole kingdom, as she was now?

The familiar creep of anxiety crawled into her again, and she tried to vanquish its hold— _Love_ , she kept repeating, _love is the answer—_ but this time, the ice crept its way out onto the floor, the walls, the tapestry, and she was too overwhelmed by the emotion to stop it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Hans didn't like when things were out of his control.

He could deal—and he could certainly deal with it well—but still, he didn't like it.

So it was with great annoyance that he attended his trial, facing a private courtroom that consisted of his mother, a lawyer, and a judge. No one else could be bothered to show up.

Apparently, attempted regicide wasn't heinous enough to warrant an audience.

He faced the judge now, his hands shackled behind him like he was a common criminal and not a prince, and through the corner of his eye saw his mother's steely expression. The lawyer, whose name he had promptly forgotten, was pleading for a light sentence, although even with their brief talk a day before, he didn't know much about Hans' motives for attempted assassination.

"What do you have to say for yourself, Prince Hans? What could possibly justify your actions to attempt murder of Arendelle royalty?"

"She was a danger to Arendelle and had to be apprehended," said Hans, expression bored. They said that you tended to like those who were similar to you; well, he was certainly reflecting the judge's boredom now. Really, what did it take to make people care around here?

"A danger to Arendelle, but the _queen_ —!"

"A terrible and irresponsible queen, who did not want to rule and did not know how to. Being of royalty"—he glanced at his mother, who looked so much like his brothers—"is no excuse for treating the people poorly. She does not care for them, she does not know them, she does not know how to rule them, sir. Her people needed me. Her people needed to end the winter. I did what I had to."

The judge pursed his lips, considering, and for once Hans damned the Southern Isles' justice system. He often praised it for being egalitarian, ahead of its times, but were these really the type of people in charge of _his_ people?

Not that "his" people even knew of him. He grit his teeth as the judge rubbed his fat chin, narrowed his eyes. Even the judge didn't respect his authority as much as his older brothers'. Royalty— _he_ was as royal as any of his twelve brothers, yet there was no leniency for him in this matter.

"Very well. Then I sentence you to..."

"Your Honor," said the queen, speaking up for the first time. "If you may, I have my _own_ idea for a punishment. Prince Hans is my son, and I must discipline him as so." She placed his hand on his shoulder, and Hans willed the dull ache blooming in his chest away with annoyance.

"Your own punishment?" The judge was hesitant and skeptical.

His mother smiled thinly but primly, a smile that was used to getting what it wanted.

"Yes. Before he is a prince, before he is a criminal, he is my son, and I will discipline him accordingly. I will teach him the error of his ways, Your Honor. You have my word as the queen. And, of course, if you visit and deem the punishment unnecessary or unfit, you can of course revoke it and assign a new one. All I ask for is a chance."

The justice system was used to overlooking status as royalty, but not even the judge here could ignore the sway in the queen's voice. There was a certain charisma that ran through her entire character, so that she pulled you every which way while giving the illusion that you were in control. Sometimes the presence of power she had was diluted; this was purposefully done. But other times, you could feel the power coming off of her in waves. Her very presence was made of it.

Hans tried not to smirk at how beguiled the judge was, his almost befuddled expression. _You learn from the best_ , he thought, and his eyes flicked over to the lawyer, who was watching all of this silently.

"Very well," said the judge. "Then I suppose that settles it. Prince Hans of the Southern Isles, you are free to go...for now. As for your punishment, I will be checking in on you a week from now and expect to see you hard at work making amends. You _will_ make sure that his punishment lasts at _least_ a week, won't you?" The judge gave his mother an almost haughty look.

The queen bowed modestly. "Yes, of course, your honor."

The pompous fool. He thought he was the one in control, when his mother had just wrapped him around her little finger.

"Then court dismissed." He pounded the gavel, although there was no one else to hear it besides the three people standing in front of him.

They promptly left, and the lawyer sidled up to the queen, looking hesitant. "My queen—about payment—"

 _You don't deserve payment_ , thought Hans in disgust, but his mother only nodded curtly.

"You will receive it in the mail as soon as we are able." He was dismissed.

Once he was gone, Hans turned to her and opened his mouth to speak. "Mother—"

"I'm disappointed in you, Hans," she said, and only shook her head. He knew it was his cue to stop talking.

His lip curled. Even if he had presented his actions in a valiant way, some things never changed.


End file.
